SuperNormal
by Byakugan789
Summary: After the battle of Hogwarts, Harry decides to take a real vacation as opposed to the stress filled slog of his seventh year. After touring most of the world Harry is working his way through America when he runs afoul of the Supernatural cast. M is for Murder.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I got tired of watching thoroughly out of character casts of Harry Potter betraying him and causing Harry to go be some angel's butt monkey and minor character in the Supernatural cast or end up being an angel through some strange contrivance usually related to the Deathly Hallows or Real!Family plots, so I decided to take an afternoon to Write my own Harry Potter/Supernatural fanfiction.

Summery: After the battle of Hogwarts, Harry decides to take a real vacation as opposed to the stress filled slog of his seventh year. After touring most of the world Harry is working his way through America when he runs afoul of the Supernatural cast. M is for Murder.

SuperNormal

By Byakugan

After the battle of Hogwarts ended in 1998 I decided to travel, see the world, meet interesting people, get away from the carnage of heartache and loss that was magical England. Ron and Hermione didn't understand it, but they let me go without too much fuss, knowing I'd be back. Ginny and I had a one sided screaming match, but that was it. When I left it was with a world saved and working to heal itself. Hermione naturally insisted on seeing that I was at least prepared for whatever I met wherever I was going and gave me a backpack full of camping equipment, a full set of books on every subject from first year to mastery and enough stasis charmed food to feed an army.

I kissed her full on the lips as a thank-you, an impulsive act which did me no favors whenever I returned.

My first stop was at Andromeda's place where I offered to take Teddy with me. He was my godson and it seemed the least I could do, to take care of him after failing to save his parents. Objectively I knew their deaths were not my fault, but my sense of responsibility remained. The last Tonks simply smiled and refused, somehow extracting a promise to return for a week with gifts every six months for a week before I'd even realized what had happened.

For the next several weeks I toured the islands, concealed under notice-me-not charms and occasionally my invisibility cloak. It was nice, after our long run, hiding like frightened rabbits in our tent in one remote forest or bog after the other, to be able to really enjoy the scenery of England and Ireland. I visited a variety of magical and muggle points of interest. Big Ben, the Giants Causeway, Shakespeare's Globe, Buckingham Palace (you wouldn't believe the wards on that place, brr) the Stone Henge, the Lea fold and dozens of others. Even taking the tacky tourist tours and mostly just sticking around to listen to the guides and snap pictures like Colin Crevey it took me a month to see everything I'd heard about. Even then I'm sure I missed a fair bit.

The only sour point of the trip up to this point has been the Deathly Hallows. Simply put, they've been following me. When the battle had ended and Voldemort was defeated I'd left the resurrection stone where I'd dropped it in the forest and reburied the wand in Dumbledore's tomb. I figured that, along side a few tricks of Hermione would mean that the power of the Hallows would die there.

I'd only be so lucky.

It seems that, just like the one ring from that Tolkien book Hermione had me read third year, that the hallows have wills of their own. Because I united them, I'm now their master and they actively seek my presence and do their best to return to me. I suppose that might stop if I were to be defeated, but I really don't and didn't want the power of the death-stick to pass on.

The first time they returned to me I snapped the elder wand in two and tossed the resurrection stone into the Thames.

They returned in an aurora of dappled silver light midnight Saturday nine days later. I stacked the elder wand into the small log-house of brush and twigs I intended to use as a cooking fire that evening and took a hammer to the stone.

They next appeared Monday, again at midnight and nine days after their destruction. That time I broke the elder wand into tiny pieces, dumped them in the fire place at the pub I was staying in and used a hammer to smash the stone to gravel.

The Hallows continued to return to me every nine days after than, even when I eventually added my families invisibility cloak to the trail of ever more imaginative destructive measures. By the time I was done touring France, Germany, the Netherlands, Denmark (which is part of magical Germany, but separated in the muggle world) I had run out of ideas and my methods had become rather Weasley-ish. Or at least Fred and George Weasley. I'd even tried out the Hermione rout of researching the Hallows and when that failed spectacularly simply diving into magic for ever more clever and impressive ways to vanish, banish and destroy things. Rather sadly in my opinion I learned more in those three months than I had learned in six years of Defense classes at Hogwarts.

It was during my first visit to Andromeda and Teddy that I finally made some progress on that front. Or rather, Mrs Tonks did. Many magical items, especially those endowed by their creator with purpose or large quantities of magic, often develop their own consciousnesses. This is a large part of what make muggle bating such a problem for Arthur and the ministry Obliviators actually as such items can become as clever as their creators in an effort to fulfill the purpose for which they were made. Her suggestion was simply that I talk to the Hallows as if they were wizards themselves, something muggles needed rituals to do.

SO, after off loading my more interesting collectables at the Tonks' and sending Hermione a collection of translate foreign books I'd picked up I sat down and waited for the Hallows to return again. My demand of them was simple. Go away. I neither need nor want two of you and with the skill gained from my trip, my wish to keep the invisibility cloak was mostly sentimental.

The hallows all pulsed in unison, somehow seeming as if they were laughing, and vanished.

Then I blacked out.

Ever since then I've been able to vanish at will, cast magic wandlessly and summon the dead with a thought. The damn specters even seek me out. Despite being the exact opposite of what I'd wanted it's actually a lot less of a hassle than it sounds.

The dead, or at least the ones I summon, return to what is known as the Akashik Field; an Indian philosophy that basically holds all knowledge ever developed by any sentient being ever. Except for ghosts. Despite this massive oneness and community of the dead a lot of spirits still get bored after a few centuries and are quite willing to latch onto the stone at the thought that I might want to know something they've experienced.

Chatty little bastards, and very informative.

And so I continued my travels, visiting more historic sites and getting the real story of what happened at each famous site and time from a bunch of overexcited specters. Many of them tend to be rather disgusted with the state of the tour programs and like to make snide comments while I walk along side the group, smiling blithely. I often make deals with the spirits to write things down as they remembered it and send the papers to Hermione just so they'll behave. A charmed dicta-quill, large roll of parchment and notice-me-not spell is were very familiar castings those days.

Eventually I made my way across Europe and into Russia and Asia. I stopped off with Charlie briefly to tour the dragon preserve as I had many of the other magical sentient/creature hideouts. The dragons were much friendlier than Vlad Dracul.

As I journeyed into Asia the magical creatures took on an odd tendency to be more human than creature, more and more often setting up their own communities or mixing into muggle society than staying hidden or living wild as their European cousins did. Japan and eastern china in particular were rather serious in this trend. To the point that it's causing them overpopulation problems. India has a similar problem, but with them there genuinely is a ridiculous muggle birthrate, the all to human magical creatures simply aren't helping things any.

Touring China and India actually got me in a fair deal of trouble. It wasn't that I needed to use translation charms every three seconds, but rather the countries being in the middle of major industrial revolutions. Listening to local chatter those revolutions are actually the main source of the overcrowding population wise. The areas are still adapted to the high birthrates needed to maintain family lines and farmhands in the poor areas and with the push to modernize food distribution, medical care and mechanical aid massive numbers of children are surviving where they wouldn't have before to continue the cycle of large families meant to combat high death-rates.

The reason this situation got me in trouble is that the rapid and rampant industrialization and high populations that push it to continue at a ridiculous rate have also increased pollution to an extreme degree. The smog in Beijing is bad enough that you can't even see the sky at noon and the tops of the skyscrapers? Only the old ones are visible from the street. Walking around in a bubble head charm is obvious. Walking around in a full bubble charm is even more-so. Summoning a stream of concentrated smog out of the air and to one hand while I transfigure it into blocks of stone with the other? Apparently that's too much for even Asian 'politeness' to simply turn your head away from and ignore.

Needless to day, I spent a lot of time running from the Aurors. I didn't get on YouTube at least, magic (in active use at least) does indeed causes phones and camera's to become blurred and fuzzy if they don't short out outright like uncle Vernon's toaster when Marge visited.

Japan was fun though. Lost my virginity to this girl that turned into a snowflake and lost the ability to blush after a few weeks of traveling with another girl, Hisako, who had fox ears and a tail. I was rather sad when she turned around at the Iranian border. Apparently Kitsune and the local Dijinn spirits have a rather bad history with each other. We parted with a promise to look each other up if we were ever in each others neck of the woods.

Arabia... was different. Where my last year and a half across Europe and Asia have seen wands use, pretty much to the exclusion of all else, the Persian Empire did things mostly by ritual.

The Persian Empire... right, that's another difference between the muggle world and the magical one. When Genghis Khan and his Shaman came through from conquering China, Russia, Korea and Japan and tore the Persian Empire to shreds the magical world separated from their muggle brethren in a big way. They were actually the first groups to do so, well before Statute of Secrecy. Genghis Shaman couldn't defeat the Persian cultists, but they could protect the Horde from their rituals, thus the split.

Anyways, Persia. They own the muggle lands of Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Saudi Arabia and the surrounding little Oil barons. Things are... Very traditional around here. Much like the Muslim extremists with whom they share a mutual loathing.

In this endless desert the Djinn are everywhere. Contrary to popular belief Djinni are not all, or even often, wish granters of the tales of Aladdin and the recent muggle movie on the subject. Much like the shinto and hindi creatures they are spirits of nature and reflect that with their vaguely corporeal form and vast array of skills.

Pretty near everything there had wings. Bulls, lions, snakes, there were even a few magical varieties of camels. For all that I'm fascinated by flight this should have been my idea vacation spot, but aside from a few landmarks like the gardens of Babalon and the great library I ended up leaving rather quickly. Perhaps its our own fault what with the Romans, the crusades, Israel and America, but the people here are simply... unfriendly would be the politest way to put it.

Africa was different again from anything I've experienced before. Nearly five times the size of Europe pretty much all of the magical creatures here are well and truly creatures. The only humanoid magicals I found in my year on the continent were local wizards who had sought to change themselves and become... less in the undertaking. Local mythology often refers to them as demons or malevolent nature spirits of one sort or another.

Politically Africa is... broken I guess would be the best word for it. In the northeast the Pharaohs are still strong and in the far south there is a large sect of British ex-patriots, but everything else is very tribal. The statute of secrecy, while in effect, doesn't seem to really be a big thing around here. In the tribal communities wizards live alongside muggles and practice arts that pretty much every law enforcement agency I know would label dark in heartbeat, but in the more developed areas the divide is fairly clear. Mostly what I got from my tour was that they were tired of dealing with the warlords and would happily kill any of their muggle clients who talked.

Most of my time was spent in Egypt with Bill. In the magical world, Egypt still owns the Sudan and Ethiopia along with about a third of Liberia and Chad. The local government is rather... disgusted with Gringotts and their British employees, but allows the Tomb Raiders on account of having lost to the Empire a little under two centuries ago and a deal with the goblins to allow them the gold if they return the cultural artifacts from the crypts they successfully plunder. Even this is grudging on the part of the goblins but it turns out that Egyptian wizards are _incredibly_ adept at curses, even if they can't perform well in battle. The last few time Gringotts tried to cheat on the deal or even refuse negotiations plagues started following the little green skinned menaces.

Curse breaking, which is all done by wizards rather than their goblin employers, turned out to be quite fun. With Bill returned here shortly before I did, Fleur and their kids in tow, I found a knack for deciphering riddles and runework. Personally I think it's Hermione rubbing off on me after all of our adventures together, but Bill insists that my parents were good at it. Bill was only nine when my parents died, but he insisted their teasing him with puzzles and stories of heroes and hidden treasure was what had gotten him interested in curse breaking to begin with.

South Africa was also fun. The diamond mines run by the De-Beer's group and the numerous safari's were a blast, but as one of Africa's primary exporters of magical animal parts for potions, rituals, textiles and big game hunting I also had the misfortune of seeing the slaughter fields. It wasn't as bad as in mid and northwest Africa where they simply slaughter the beasts wholesale and sell the parts in the street, but perhaps the organization and farming of the creatures here made it even bloodier. If only through sheer quantity alone.

After that, I went to South America. Argentina had a lot of German ex-patriots and Grindelwald supporters, but not a whole lot of magical culture to really enjoy. It was rather interesting to learn that Grindelwald was not in fact anti muggleborn or halfblood as we learned in history of magic, but rather anti-Muggle. I'm not certain if that's a whole lot better, but he saw muggles as a plague upon the world, a lesser race which needed to be expunged by any of a variety of means to make way for the master race. A race which was not muscular blue eyed blonds of his Muggle whipping boy Adolf Hitler, but rather wizards and witches in general. This philosophy also saw half-bloods as muggles being bred up, rather than magicals being sullied and contrary to British politics he and his supporters were rather fond of half-creature mixes where it improved the magical strength of the children. Especially elves. Not house elves, German and Scandinavian elves the likes of which appear in folklore and were popularized by Tolkien.

Strangely I learned all of this after failing to hide my identity as Harry Potter. Charles Potter, my grandfather was apparently a personal friend of Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore in the early stages of the Nazi Wizards rise to power. It turns out Skeeters books were actually true and Dumbledore split from the cause at the age of 45 when and altercation between him, Gellert and Abberforth killed Ariana Dumbledore making the mans name mud here in Argentina.

Getting out of trouble for helping the man who ran the first and second world wars was also how the Potter family lost nearly ninety percent of its gold and became one of the few noble houses not in the top five percent of wealth.

Wonderful the illusions that are shattered about ones family history...

Things remained interesting into Brazil, though for the most part the country was one big series of parties. There was apparently a quiet but bloody struggle between the muggle farmers and ranchers and the more... tribal native magic users, but where ever it was I could never seem to find it outside of vague mentions in magical bars and taverns. There's a pretty good mix of African, European and native cultures represented here too, both in the muggle and magical districts of each town and city, but things didn't get really interesting until I got to Peru.

All of those ruins muggles like to take tours of? Bustling magical cities. The reason nobody has ever been able to find the lost treasure of the Inca is because it's still there, hidden under a massive quantity of muggle confounding wards. Children in the streets play games with the muggle archeologists and tourists, stealing their equipment, moving things and generally making people think the places are haunted. ...which far from stopping muggles from going there actually seems to have increased the interest, much to the kids' amusement.

Precious metals and gems are cheap here, perhaps unsurprisingly, due to their abundance. When I asked what they thought of the Spaniards who had hounded their Aztec cousins and forced them into hiding many of them laughed. The diseases the Conquistadors brought with them were no small matter they told me, but the men themselves were so devout to their church that they refused to allow any sort of sorcerer to be part of their efforts and thus it was all too easy to make fools of them. Further, the Spanish sorcerers who DID accompany them anyways were quite willing to sell them spell and potion based remedies to the muggle diseases as well as the ones they themselves might possibly carry over.

It does not do to insult the people who can make or break your campaign.

The story was similar, and yet fundamentally different, as I moved further north over the weeks that followed. The Aztecs who had killed and consumed the Mayans, had also come into contact with the Spanish wizards, but instead of accepting their assistance in the face of their mutual enemy the priests of the Aztec culture had attacked the European sorcerers as well, leading to their downfall in a rather bloody three way war of attrition.

Perhaps that was all for the best though, because as advanced and well joined as the Aztec culture was between its magical and non-magical populations, their magic was based heavily around sacrifices, blood lettings and cannibalism as a method of powering spells and enchantments. This, more than anything I think, is what led to the blanket ban on blood magic in Europe and because of the chatty raving of the local dead I learned far more than I ever wanted to on the subject.

I thought I'd be glad to have gotten to America, but sadly I came through border patrol at the Arizona border near Tucson instead of Texas like I probably should have. Trail of Tears. That's all that needs to be said really, what with the ghosts that pop up fast and thick since the Hallows became part of my magic.

America, magical like muggle, truly is the melting pot for all of the worlds cultures, and it shows in the vast variety of magical districts and muggle ethnic cities, but It's also a sad place. For me at least. American Muggle entertainment is always going on about how just about freaking anything is going to cause the Apocalypse and how we should be afraid of the monsters under our bed and the crazies and nerds who bring them to life, but what I don't think they really realize... is that the Apocalypse very nearly happened, right here where they live.

Or maybe they do subconsciously and that's why it's such a fad..?

Eleven hundred years ago America was a continent teeming with life and civilization. While built mostly out of wood and sun-baked mud the place was filled with dozens of countries and populated by tens of millions of people. That doesn't sound like a lot now with the united states population of three hundred a fifty million, but considering that they were dealing with a combination of late bronze age technology and shamanistic magic that was a pretty bustling number.

Then the Siedhr came. Norse rune wizards and their muggle viking friends and cousins, they traveled along the the northern border of what is now America, drinking trading, whoring and brawling and by in large were rather friendly.

But in their wake they left a trail of disease for which neither medicine man nor shaman had any real cure.

None of the ghosts could tell me if it was intentional or accidental but a wave of plagues spread out from the Norse-men's travels like the red tide. Carried by fleeing civilians, traders, nomads and battling warriors there was no way to stop it. Over ninety percent of the the population of the North American continent died as a result of the pathogens. The plagues didn't stop until it hit the Aztechs and their blood sacrifices to spirit gods who they normally used to create plagues of their own.

The surviving natives took great pains to kill any further Seidhr and Viking travelers and eventually drove them out of towns they'd established in Michigan, Quebec, New York, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Maine, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia Newfoundland.

Unfortunately for them, that was hardly the end of the European plague bearers. Columbus, the conquistadors, Roanoke, New York again, Virginia Colony, Cuba. After the Norse had been driven out the Americas had been given a four hundred year period to grieve, rebuild and forget, but when the Europeans found maps of the 'new world' and followed them they saw it not for what it was, a raped widow, but a virgin land ready for expansion.

And expand they did. People came, this time in a steady stream of large colony boats, well armed and carrying not adventuring companies by whole villages with dozens of families apiece. The plagues started again, fighting broke out and the clash of cultures saw the native population slowly whittled away, one new city or company at a time. Now the surviving native populations are limited to enclaves, mostly won for them by wizards. Muggles weren't the only people to go native and breed into the local tribes after all.

Ignoring the history and the rather... depressing number and demeanor of the ghosts I've been swamped with here America is still a rather interesting place. China and India both had more ghosts, but those were mostly from the touch of the second horseman rather than the first. Less of a genuine sob story and more fury.

America though... Everything I've found elsewhere in the world I'm seeing again here. Sometimes multiple different continents wonders in the same city tossed together in random order. Wands, ritual, runes, palmistry, alchemy, zoos and farms containing magical creatures from all over the world. And the statute of secrecy... oh boy, considering what goes on here I can't even fathom how it is that the muggles just... Don't. Know.

Americans as a general rule seem to enjoy flouting tradition. If it wasn't something invented by an American or even simply in America, it is worthy of being mocked. The traditional conflict between mysticism and science? Techno-mages. The statute of secrecy? Occult shops and stage magicians. Robes and pointed hats? Tuxedo and top hat, some cuts of which can get pretty obscene. Especially on women. The Salem Witch Trials? Salem Massachusetts is the larges single campus for magical learning in the country and was first headmaster-ed by Benjamin Franklin himself more than a century after his official death in the muggle world. He apparently left a lucrative enchanting job to take up the position. They even promote this crazy Muggle movement called Wicca to further confuse the issue and because it pisses off the Christians, Jews and Islamic's.

That's not to say there aren't problems of course, squibs are taboo here. You have a squib? Whew boy. Not only is the kid the now the antichrist, your entire family gets a big black mark all over its reputation. America has the highest population density of wizards and half-breeds in the world, and often aren't the strongest of magicals even compared to what I was used to in Britain, but if you have a squib... Americans will screw just about anything, so having a squib means that you're doing it with a close relative and that is no simpatico here. I never saw anyone, even Draco, get wound as tight about muggleborns as Americans do about squibs.

All of that is beside the point though.

It was early 2005 and I have been traveling for seven years when I ran... into _them._ Remember what I said about Americans playing fast and loose with the statute of secrecy? The Winchester boys are a perfect example of the reason it's in place to begin with.

Hunters are groups of humans who the obliviators missed for one reason or another. More specifically, they're the ones who, instead of repressing everything or getting locked up in mental institutions, become sociopathic assholes and actively hunt magical people and creatures with no regard for whether or not they're dangerous. Occasionally the ministry makes use of these fanatics to thin out the vampire population in a manner they can't be blamed for but more often than not they end up hunting the worlds Wicca.

While most of the worlds Wicca are a bunch of silly girls who prance around their living rooms or local parks in funny outfits and pray to trees or shop keepers into the hippy lifestyle, there are two communities, and I use that term loosely, of serious Wicca. First, are the squibs. They know magic is real and they know that there is power in various plant and animal parts or minerals. Since their own power is to small to perform magic on their own they are the foremost developers of ritual across the world, always in an effort to capture the power of their heritage denied them. The second group are the... well we call them Zionists. Muggle's who barter with the elder god Elohim and his creations. Sometimes for power, but most often for petty things. Unimaginative revenges, promotion in their jobs, staving off the death of a company or favorite pet, love of someone they themselves are going to tire of quickly. And in exchange they often promise their souls once all is said and done.

Contrary to British wizarding belief muggles can indeed produce ghosts, but the process for such is more...complicated. Where a wizard needs only to be terrified of death and specifically not being remembered, and their magic allows them that last request as they die. For a muggle it's more complicated. There needs to be some sort of extreme circumstance. Brutal murder, emotionally charged suicide, an incredible sense of obligation. Something that means when the reapers come to take you to your designated pantheons afterlife for reward or punishment, you would flat out refuse them. Most muggles, and really most people in general are so in shock at their deaths they don't even thing to say no, just walking off with Death's minions not the infinite holding cells or, in the case of pagans, one of the rebirth chambers.

One of these reapers had gotten into contact with me while I was on my way though main, looking to head up towards Canada and finish exploring North America in favor of Australia, the very last place on my list. I was flying over the interstate in an enchanted American car I'd picked up in Denver from some witch with the last name Tesla when the creature appeared on the bridge beside me. As the inside of wizards cars can be literally anything we want, the Ferrari F-70 had been enchanted by the dealer to have the look and dimensions of an American scifi spaceship.

The thing looked like a woman in a slinky black dress, but exuded an aura of cold power that was almost suffocating despite its pleasantly smiling demeanor. "Watcher" she said bowing.

"Ah, wotcher." I replied. "What can I do for a lovely... being like yourself? What are you exactly?"

She smiled. "I am known by many names across many cultures, but you might know me best as the reaper." At my raised brow she smirked. "You have no need to fear me, watcher. In your first two deaths you were entangled with the soul of another, one that would not let us take you. Now that you are free you reject the gifts of death that so many have coveted, imagining that they could gain control over him." She scoffed. "The fools. Regardless, that act, the repeated dismissal of the hallows has granted you deaths trust. The dead respect you. It is because of this that you are allowed to see us and it is because of this that I have come seeking you. A mortal has sought to bind a reaper, using him to sacrifice mortals who would decry her husband and build him up on the alter of Elohim as a healer, using those same souls as payment for spells of regeneration."

"And you want me to stop her." It wasn't a question, the implication was clear enough. She nodded and I sighed. "If you know me then you probably know I'd do it anyways because of how I was raised the first 17 years, but is there any sort of reward for this?"

The reaper laughed, her voice like a bell. "Mortals, you never cease to amaze." She shook her head. "I suppose I can offer you one thing, a bit of knowledge if you will. Because you rejected deaths gifts rather than gathering them with the intent to control," she rolled her eyes "as if you could, death has seen fit to allow you to choose the time and manner of your death. This is a rare honor, as most mortal lives are predetermined by the web of causality."

"Where can I find this woman, and how will I recognize her?" Harry asked, smiling slightly as a great weight seemed to have lifted off his shoulders.

"Go to Nebraska and look for the faith healer." She gave a sardonic smile before disappearing. "Shouldn't be too hard; there are billboard!"

Nebraska, huh? Pulling up the magical maps function I got oriented and apparate, pulling the car with me. There was a dull thud as the overpressure from my teleportation into the airspace over Omaha, but other than that I was a pleasant trip. The car was already saturated with my magic due to the long periods flying it rather than driving. I checked the obfuscation charms to make sure that nobody noticed or cared about my arrival and then set to looking. As the reaper said, it wasn't too hard to find information. The man was operating out of a tent in central Nebraska, just outside a town called Merna. People gave me some pretty strange looks when I asked about finding a faith healer, but then maybe they were wondering why a healthy sane looking man would want one of those.

I arrived outside the tent on January 17th 2006 and took a seat in leaning position against one of the poles in the back and waited. The place was packed and stank with desperation. It was rather uncomfortable to watch despite having been in vaguely similar straits several times myself. As I looked over the people filing in, I wondered, just how many of them would come back if they knew _how _their sons and daughters were going to be healed. Would they still do it, knowing that to save their loved one some random person would be sacrificed?

Would I?

I shook my head. Perhaps when I was younger, before talking to an entourage of bored and eager ghosts became common place to me. I _had _ gotten a chance to know my parents, really know them, since this all started. Lily was every bit as much of an angel everyone said she was, but had a vicious streak that showed itself when you truly hurt someone close to her and a rather low capacity for forgiveness. She was also smarter than Hermione and prettier than Ginny, though the comparison between the two womens' features made me rather queasy. James, much to my disappointment was easily half as arrogant as Snape always said he was, but he was easy to get along with and incredibly enthusiastic. He was also quite willing to go haunt everyone who was ever mean to me and still live. So much so that I had to order him to return to the afterlife and keep mom company after any summoning.

Finally, the last of the guests, a pair of young men about my age, walked in and took seats by the front, guided by a woman, Sue Ann Le Grange. The Reaper stood there in plane sight, at least to me, glaring at her. Fury and impotence was written on its face and I whistled. That was some powerful black magic. The Reaper turned to look at me, as if shocked, then straitened his coat and walked over.

"Watcher." He said bowing slightly, his movements stiff and visage grim. "We were not sure you would come."

I nodded. "So... what do I call you, and what can you give me on the ritual controlling you?" When the creature stiffened, looking angry, I put up my hand and explained, ignoring the looks that were starting to turn toward me. "I'm not looking to learn or use it. But the only thing I know about reapers is Mayan and those rituals are pretty large and gruesome. This?" I said, gesturing around the tent "looks much cleaner. More akin to a leash than a cage."

Everybody was looking now, and the minister, Le Grange, had even paused in his little sermon. "Son, come up here. Please. Come up here if you would."

I looked at the Reaper and cocked a brow. He nodded and we walked forward slowly. "The woman, Sue Ann, she carries a talisman. You will have to take it from her and destroy it. Then I will be free. I would suggest taking her grimoire as well so that others cannot follow in her footsteps. Her victims are people she dubs to be amoral. I've had the chance to examine each of their souls as I exchange the death dates and she doesn't have a bad eye, but these people are _far_ from monster she herself has become. When I take her soul as punishment she will be going to a place much worse than any of her victims, even with their various crimes." We arrived at the front of the tent as the Reaper, who still hadn't given me a name, stopped talking.

"Please, tell me son. What ails you?" the blind preacher asked. "Madness? Dementia? I have healed both before, child, be not afraid."

"No, pastor." I replied "what ails me is hypocrisy." I replied, sending a bright red stunner at his wife. As she collapsed unconscious half of the audience screamed and jumped back in their chairs, whilst the man before me simply shook slightly. "Did you know that your healing powers came from your wife? Or that she had bound a Reaper to her service? All magic comes with a price, and you wife was paying for the lives of those you saved with the deaths of others." I bend down and retrieved the crude ritual item from the woman's clenched hands and held it up to him.

Behind he the Winchesters were standing as well, but instead of looking scared, they were angry. Dean because of what I had said, and Sam because I was stopping his brother from being healed. I barely noticed as they whispered to each other and make their way out of the tent where most of the original inhabitants were still cowering.

"If t-that is t-true," the blind man said "then I am truly sorry for the crimes I helped to commit. I am not sorry for the lives I helped to save however. All of them were good people with nowhere else to turn to. Tell me son, if you destroy my wife's work, and keep in mind, I don't believe you, would all of the people we have saved die?"

I looked at the Reaper who shook his head. "No." I replied simply. "They're healed and will stay healed. Law of Ontological Inertia. What is done is done." I looked at the charm speculatively and then back at the Reaper. "Mind doing one last job?"

The creature glared at me and and a feeling of ice coldness stole over me. "That depends on whether or not you with to die as well" it replied.

"Oh, come off it, you said you were going to take her anyways for the insult of controlling you." I rebutted. "I'd just like the pastor here to be able to see again and more importantly, see you, so he can understand what it is he's been taking part in."

The black suited man thing looked at me for several moments and nodded. "Burn that and we have a deal." I cheerfully complied, turning the dark artifact to ash as the Reaper went to work.

That was when the Winchesters burst back in, shotguns raised. "Hands in the air, demon bitch."

I stared at them in consternation while the people still cowering behind their chairs shrieked again, some in support of the two hunters, and others in fear at the appearance of gunmen. "Excuse me, but that's really rather rude. I'd hoped that bit of tripe went the way of the dodo with the end of the witch hunts in the 1800's. Devils work, honestly."

I transfigured their guns into raccoons and turned to leave, but the short dark one, whipped out a pistol and shot me in the shoulder. I roared in pain, but didn't go down or black out. Basalisk venom had been worse than this. Voldemort's much beloved Cruciatus had been much worse than this. With an angry snarl I let loose with a blasting curse, sending the boy flying out of the tent and caving his chest in. As the taller of the two rushed out after his fallen friend I turned to the rest of the people, still cowering in the tent.

"SO..." I said into the still room, using my wand to visibly heal repair my shoulder and clean away the blood. "You came here to be healed. ...I think I can help you with that."

"How?" Demanded one of them, an older looking woman. "You assaulted the priest, you probably killed those boys. Who are you to offer us healing?"

I grinned. "I'm a bloody wizard." I replied with a grin.

I spent the rest of the night healing the people who'd come to the faith healer, summoning ghosts of deceased Medi-witches and muggle doctors for direction and explanation whenever necessary. When I was done I left a tent full of stunned, disbelieving people, many of whom were dancing in elation, so surprised were they at the lack of pain and fatigue that they had spend years getting used to. It was a massive break of the statute of secrecy, but these people had come to a faith healer in the first place, and honestly, who would believe them? Still, given that it was a break in the statute I made my way back to my car and set course for Canada. It was time to continue my vacation and leaving the scene of the crime was a very good place to start.

I got as far as Chicago before trouble caught up with me.

Interestingly enough trouble came not in the form on the US Department of Sorcery, but rather in a strange and very pissed of man with glowing golden eyes. Unlike the reaper chick, Azazel didn't appear inside my car, but in front of it, despite the fact that I was cruising at nearly 1000 feet.

I ran into him. While moving at 500 miles an hour. And all he did was glare at me.

Perhaps it's a personal failing of mine, but ever since entering Hogwarts 15 years ago I've been completely unable to resist a mystery. The first couple of times it was because they wouldn't stop chasing _me_. Then it became because I felt a sense of responsibility, after all, each of my adventures had something to do with Tom and why he'd killed my parents. By the time if the seventh year that wasn't though I think I'd actually sort of started to enjoy them though. My year in the wilderness hunting Horcrxes wasn't fun, don't get me wrong, but once it was over and everything was peaceful... it just felt _wrong_ somehow to be without! So when my return to adventure was interrupted by a miserable golden eyed superman, you can forgive me for being interested.

Stopping the car, still in mid air, I charmed by cloths for flight and stepped out to meet him.

"You alright?" I asked as the other flying man 'stood' and brushed himself off. "I didn't think I was flying over anyone's turf, so sorry for hitting you."

He answered with a glare, only to become confused by something. His confusion didn't last long though, because he immediately lashed out at me with a blast of force. It hit me like a freight train and I went tumbling through the air. Focusing on the flight charms Id put on my cloths I righted myself and dodged out of the way of his flying tackle. "Alright, superhero comics weren't kidding, the heroes always get in turf fights when you aren't careful about where you're traveling." As yellow eyes turned around I shouted "_Fulgura!_" A bolt of lightning launched from my Holly wand making it warm to the touch.

The bold struck the other man and he snarled, healing the electrical damage and returning with a spout of flames. A quick shield and apparition later I was out of the way and sending a mix of stunning, blasting and cutting curses at him as was often shown in in muggle comics. My opponent dodged around most of them, but took several hits that caused him to spark slightly. Instead of getting angrier at the pain though, he began grinning. With a roar he threw his hands up and the air began spinning. Clouds formed, a funnel extending down from their center and hail whipping everywhere.

Swearing profusely as lightning bolts began raining down everywhere I summoned my car from where it was beginning to follow the wind and put it in my pocket. This guy was strong. Freakishly strong, and coming from a freak among freaks that was saying something. He also wasn't afraid of showing it.

Calling on the power of the cloak, as had become habit for me of late, I flew with the wind and into the center of the storm. Maneuvering myself behind they guy I lashed out with a powerful confundus and sleep spell combo at point blank range. It was at this when the mans eyes rolled up and into his skull, as opposed to during any of my other attacks, all of which could have put a human, wizard or most types of magical beasts down for the count. It wasn't until I had us both on the ground and the storm had dissipated that I realized there was something wrong.

In our world, it is not at all uncommon for the weak to follow the strong, and with American wizards close connection to their muggle counterparts and their pride in all things distinctly American It's not that uncommon for strong wizards to take themselves up as superheros or super-villains just for a lark. Often they gather followers on both sides of the divide and become more akin to rival mob bosses, but these witch kings are almost universally territorial, so powerful foreign wizards intruding on their turf without prior warning is a good way to get into a scrap. Usually they take it pretty well, but then there are those like that group of sisters in San Francisco who just take themselves _way_ to seriously.

At first, this guy seemed to fit the description... Save that he had two souls.

One was human, and upon questioning a number of ghosts, I found that the other one rather distinctly wasn't. Following the spirit, Mary someone, frantic instructions I began drawing series of really strange runes around the guy in Iron filings and salt. After that, I woke him up.

"Well now,.." he drawled looking around at the symbols around him "ain't this a pickle." He turned his golden gaze to me. "An here I hadn't thought the pagans had kept up with this old stuff."

"Pagan..." I muttered in reply. "You're one of those Enochian idiots! The hell? What are Elohim's servants doing standing in front of my car!?"

The man shuddered and snarled at the elder gods name. "What are you doing messing with our toys?"

"What toys?" I asked "that preacher and his wife? It was their own damn fault for messing with a Valkyrie! Your side should know better than to mess with the king of the dead gods, servants or otherwise. That's no reason to get in my flight path and attack me!"

The yellow eyed demon stared at me for several minutes before breaking out laughing. "You have _no idea_ what you've just stepped in, do you?" He laughed again. "Oh, this is good. Look, pagan, that guy you killed in the preachers tent? His name was Dean Winchester. Because you killed him before I could get there the angels had time to return his soul, heal his body and deprive me of the chance to influence little Sammy. And if you don't take this truth spell of of me I'm going to show you just what a bad idea it was to let the Winchester boys know about angels before the plan could be completed."

At that I grinned. It is a sad fact of life that I have never met a challenge more appealing, than being told I not to do something. Maybe it was spending my formative years in the rush of freedom from the Dursleys control, or perhaps it was my rage at the long history of pain that came from people keeping things from me for 'my own good', but some words were like a drug, and this guy's threats and insinuations? The perfect bait.

"How's about I make a deal with you," I drawled, not knowing I was speaking to a demon and current lord of the christian hell in Lucifer's absence. "You tell me what I want to know, and I'll not follow listen to miss pushy ghost Mary here and vanquish your sorry ass." I said, waving off the misty red haired woman who was indeed crying out for yellow eyes head.

Azazel leaned back where he was sitting in the circle, a wall of light popping up behind him to stop his motion further. "No can do, son. A counter offer for you though, release me now, and I won't torture and kill everyone who's ever known you, while you watch helpless from my wall, knowing it was you who set me on them."

"Been there, done that." I quipped. "I'd rather not repeat it. But you know what? I killed him too, and he wasn't stopped by a silly line of salt and iron filings. Let's start with why you're after me. C'mon, you don't want me to take you to the Fey Council do you? I hear they like trapping nasty rogue souls like yourself in skulls for all of eternity. And we're _oh so close_ to Chicago!"

He snarled, but I could see the fear in that look. And a small measure of respect, as odd as that sounded. "Fine, fine. You have a deal. Your stepping in on behalf of the Reapers has messed the big plan. You may not have ruined it, but the Winchester boys weren't supposed to know about the angels until John or Dean could break the first seal in hell and start the apocalypse. Now that they know things are going to change somewhat. Plans have to be remade, new contingencies worked up, the whole enchilada. _I _am here because we don't want any more interference. You may have vanquished your dark lord, Harry Potter, but you're not playing quidditch anymore. Ever since you stepped foot in America it's a whole new ballgame."

I snorted. "So... you know who I am, so what? Why's the irritating ghost so mad at you?" I asked, pointing my thumb and Marry, who now had her arms crossed and was muttering explicative at both of us.

"Oh, her?" he replied smiling, voice casual. "She got in my way."

I rolled my eyes. "You're a demon," I said dryly, "or worse, an angel. Your whole breed deems humans as being in the way simply for existing. Be more specific."

Azazel ground his teeth but continued. "She's part of the big plan between Heaven and Hell. Her and her hubbie were supposed to pop out a pair of angelic vessels for the coming war and my side, hell, decided to get in on the action. First I killed her husband and then made a deal with her to resurrect him. Then I fed her son my blood to make him a cambion. When she tried to stop me I killed her." He finished with a smile as he looked at the now white ghost. "Oh? Didn't know that did you, Mrs Winchester? Yes, your precious little Sammy is one of my pawns now. I've even had hopes of him becoming a knight, or possibly even the queen" he turned to glare at me again. "Before the pagan interfered."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I've got ghosts talking to me that teach spells ten thousand years old. You know when the first of your friends showed up? Only seven thousand years ago when Elohim and Metronome made their garden in Iraq."

Azazel flinched again at the name of the old god. "Metatron. Yes, one of my brothers. It turns out you puny mortals can't handle the presence of our father without exploding. Even you pagans burn up halfway through a short conversation." He smirked. "Made for a nice barbeque."

"Right," I said, standing up abruptly, "let's go find you a skull! Would you prefer goat or snake? Or perhaps a nice baboon..."

Azazel stood too, slamming his fist against the rippling barrier or light that sprang up from the salt and iron sigil. "NO! WE MADE A DEAL! **WE MADE A DEAL!**"

I turned back to him, disgust clear in my expression. "Yeah, we did. I agreed not to vanquish you. Thing is, I still have questions and you're being a prick. Deal isn't done and stuffing you in a skull wouldn't kill you even if you were a low level puff of sulfur. You gonna drop the attitude, or are we going to see how well you like being a pet in Mabb's Palace."

The dome in which Azazel stood exploded into fire, waves of force and lightning, clouds of dark smoke and riotous kaleidoscope of dark colors before he settled back down into a gray skull filled mist that flowed into the eyes, nose mouth and ears of the man who stood there in the circle with him. "Fine" he snapped. "Ask your questions, mortal, and I shall try to be patient."

I smiled and looked between my two current guests. "Right! So... Mary Winchester... I gotta admit, i've got quite a bit of respect for you. My own mother did pretty much the same thing for me. I gotta say though, your sons? Not the sharpest knives in the drawer. Sort of the shoot first, ask questions never sort."

"Oh, so you're talking to me now?" she snapped.

"Yeah, well learning that I killed one of your sons and you still helped me with this little cage here? That and your own similarities to my mother puts some things in perspective." I smile. "Meaning you've been upgraded from vengeful ghost to someone who's opinions I take seriously." She looked confused by that statement, and off balance so I pushed on. "SO! What happened to their father. He die too?"

"No." both the spirit and the demon replied in unison before glaring daggers at each other.

"Dump the boys with some friends and go hunting this thing?" I asked hopefully. Mary shook her head again.

"He raised them." she said. "On the road, learning to be one of the best hunters I've ever seen and without a steady job. He managed to to a pretty good job of it too. I've seen their work, it's impressive."

I scowled. "Hunters." I spat. "A whole family of freaking hunters."

"And you're from a family of witches." She replied angrily. "How is that any better?"

"If I was one of those soul selling Wicca you're probably familiar with, not much, but do you even understand the difference?" She opened her mouth, but I shook my head. "No more talk. You and I can hash it out later. Go watch over your idiot sons." With that, Mary faded, forced out of my car and off to see her family as troubled ghosts often do.

I rounded on Azazel who was looking amused at the exchange. "Now, to you." I walked back and forth. "Demons aren't the type to leave things to chance. Not the ones who attain any sort of rank as you've hinted. I suppose you've made more of these cambion?" He nodded reluctantly. "And my scampering off to continue my vacation isn't going to get your sorry smokey ass of my back is it?" He shook his head, even more reluctantly. "Right. What are these kids going to be used for?"

He struggled not to speak, but ended up doing so anyway. "Demons can possess any host they want, but the more powerful the demon, the stronger the host has to be to support it. Same thing happens with angels, but they need permission to slip on a meat suit. Now a fallen angel, like myself and like father Lucifer, we need Very particular meat suits to keep from wearing them out, and Lucifer, he needs his to be strengthened besides. That's what the kids are for. The demon blood prepares them, wakes up their powers and makes them like you pagans. Able to withstand the presence of angels when they aren't born to do so, and arch angels when they are. That's why I need Sammy."

I sat down outside the circle, legs crossed, elbows on my knees and chin in my hands. "And that's why the lot of you have so many plans for the pair of them. Why you attacked me for interfering." I said slowly. "Why you don't trust me to leave alone and continue my vacation in peace." I snorted. "Well, I gotta tell you, I woulda done it. I would have truly, simply left. But you attacking? Being such a prick? I think I'm gonna stick around. See what there is to see." I tilted my head to the side. "What happens to the other kids? The ones who aren't chosen."

"Who say's they're chosen further?" he asked with a smile. "Once their powers manifest I take them all to an abandoned town and make them fight it out. Winner takes all. Can't have Lucifer in a weak vessel now can we?"

"Right," I replied dully, shaking my head. "That's the first thing I'm gonna change. You've already got your vessel in Winchester and I'm sure you're smart enough to manipulate that blockhead no matter how many times I interfere, but the other kids? They have no need to die. You want out of here? You're going to swear to me on your existence that you will have nothing further to do with those kids beyond bringing me to them. In exchange, I let you out and leave Sam and his brother in your oh so tender care." I said the last part with as much sarcasm as I could put into it. "Do we have a deal?"

"If we don't" the demon said slowly, "How long do you think you can keep me here? There is a reason after all that my pantheon is worshiped and feared, whilst your pagan gods are largely forgotten, their avatars power diminished to controlling the weather. In the absence of my fathers, Elohim" he shuddered "and Lucifer, I ruled Hell."

"Well for starters, you still haven't managed to escape the circle." I returned with an easy drawl. "For another, I've been able to force you to reveal pretty much the entire outline of your master plan. You've got to kill Dean or John Winchester after they've stupidly damned themselves under your watch. Whatever it is you want them to do down below is going to break the first seal spoken of in the bible Revelations. Then, given what you hinted, the angels are going to come into play and resurrect the pair of them to use like a pair of cloths. You're going to manipulate Sam into freeing your boss and once that's done, you're going to attempt the apocalypse, which by the gods if that isn't a cliche for the ages..."

I rolled my eyes. "This had been tried before both by your own pantheon and half a dozen others and it never works. Despite all of your grand plans all of you idiots just keep failing and the world keeps spinning. The only thing you really accomplish is keeping the population down, something we humans do well enough without your help I'm sad to say."

Azazel looked at me in consternation. "What? You just think I'm going to hand you my board full of minions? And without even demanding some proviso to protect yourself from me?"

I shrugged. "If you're any good at your job as a devil you'd find a way around both of those, and I'm hardly asking for all your minions. You just suggested the ones I want were lambs for the slaughter so you could bring out the wolf in Sam. Doubtless you've got dozens more minions running around doing projects for you. Besides, as we just proved an hour or two ago, I can take care of myself."

"You're still not selling me on this, kid."

I smirked. "Well, I'm off to Canada then." I said clapping my hands together and heading for the bridge. "Good luck getting out of there!"

Over the next few weeks I traveled through Canada, seeing hockey games, touring old town districts of various cities and visiting with the local native tribes. The Inuit were actually quite the interesting people. Followers of an old form of animism similar to the Shinto that dominated Japan, all sorts of little spirit gods existed for animal species, trees, rivers and mountains. Among them, my favorite was the raven. The character reminded me a lot of my deceased godfather, Sirius. Noble, but a prankster. Always trying to help, but usually causing a mess while he went about it.

I was visiting a tribe of Sasquatch when a figure appeared by the campfire with what sounded to be a rustle of wings. All of the large harry 'cavemen' tensed and bristle at the strangers presence. Weapons were readied, but not drawn and Harry, who the figure was staring at intently, sighed heavily.

Getting up I walked over to the man in the suit. "So, what's up padre?" I asked.

"Are you Harry Potter?" he asked in a monotone.

I raised a shield and nodded. It turned out to be a good idea, because the moment I'd confirmed my identity the man whipped out a silver blade and tried to stab me with it. The blade pierced through my shield easily, with a flash of light, but his hand was another matter. Using the power of the elder wand I cast a wandless full body bind on the man and pulled out my wand. Taking the long dagger from my attacker I kicked him over and put the blade against his chest and my wand at his throat, sitting on his stomach for good measure. "You're another one of those Enochian ass-hats aren't you?" I asked, releasing the body bind. "So, what, you here to free your friend Azazel?"

"How did you do that?" the creature rebutted, ignoring my question. "My vessel would not move. No demon contractor has that sort of power over one of the Host."

"I'm the one with the knife, chum." I reminded him. "How's about you answer some of my questions and I think about answering yours rather than returning it to you point first."

The creature scoffed. "You cannot kill an angel with his own blade."

I have to admit, my eyebrows rose. "Ah, correct me if I'm wrong, but your book says angels are six winged creatures of fire and light with three faces, only one of which is human. You don't look like a ball of overexcited gas."

The angel frowned. "The events of Christ's ascension forced us to play by certain rules. We may only appear in vessels now so as not to frighten you worms."

"So you're possessing some poor man in a suit, like a demon." The angel scowled at that. "Let me guess, you're here to stop me from interfering with Sam and Dean Winchester." The angel nodded and I moved my hands to grab him by the shoulders and lift us both up. "Well congratulations, ya ruddy poof, you chose the absolute worst way to go about it."

There was rustle of wings and the man disappeared. I didn't have to wait long for him to show up again, but it wasn't a particularly brilliant entrance. The angel had gone to my car to free Azazel, apparently thinking he could work beside the devil he knew, to destroy the one who threatened both of their plans. Me.

It didn't work. After breaking the demon trap, Azazel dragged himself out of my passenger door his hand inside the angel's chest, holding him up by the poor vessels heart. "Round two!" He said with a grin.


	2. Chapter 2

SuperNormal

Chapter 2

By Byakugan.

If you think I own any of this, the jokes on you. My bank account is nearly empty. Hell, I'd love to get millions of dollars a year for fucking up folklore...!

~! #$%^&*()_+

Azazel stepped out of the passenger side of my space expanded car, one hand stuck in the chest of the Angel who'd thought to ally with him against me. "Round two!" yellow eyes said with a grin.

Immediately lightning bolts and hail began raining down from the skies. I appareted out of the way and returned fire with a stream of fire which he shielded with the angel's body. Using the angel's vessel to ward off the flame, which probably wouldn't have hurt him anyways, Azazel flew at me. I apparated again and began firing curses at where I used to be. Most of them missed, but one bludgeoner struck him in the side and sent him flying off through a couple of trees.

"That's getting **really **_**annoying **_pagan!" the arch demon shouted, releasing a series of dark shadowy bolts of light at me. I left a shield where I was to gauge the kind of damage those attack would do and apparated again, leaving a mirror image in my place. As the attacks impacted I staggered against the side of my car. _Damn_ those attacks were strong! Calling on the power of the deathly hallows I summoned ghosts of those who had faced the leader of hell before and turned myself invisible. Taking to the air I sorted through the ghosts to find a hoodoo man who had once faced Azazel in combat and survived the encounter. On his advice I lashed out with a blood chilling curse on Azazels vessel and started slashing at him with the angel blade I'd stolen.

"I gotta admit, pagan, you've earned a fair amount of respect from me!" Azazel snarled as he moved back parrying my rather poor knife fighting skills easily. "If we weren't on opposite sides of this conflict I might even have been willing to work beside you, rather than over you, but you're _mine!_" then he exploded in a ball of blue fire. I managed to apparate away given his rather stupid warning, but I would still be needing burn crème after this.

This time though was different, because when I landed, Azazel was there to meet me. He met me, fists charged with lighting which sizzled against my dragon hide jacket. "Wouldn't count my chicken before they hatched!" I snarl. "_Fiendfyre!_"

The spell hit him point blank and he was quickly consumed by a screaming hawk of brilliant yellow and green flame. But instead of pained scream or the smell of burnt meat, laughter came from within. "Hellfire!? Lucifer be, i'm freaking impressed! But you didn't really expect hellfire to harm a Lord of Hell, did you?" he asked charging me, naked, through the flames.

"No," I replied as he grabbed me by the front of my jacket "but it did get you into another devil's trap."

He looked down and around, "What devils..." the he saw the **large** circle dug into the ground around us by the Sasquatch, each of the channels filled with a small flow of blood "trap. Oh, my... You are a tricky little worm aren't you pagan?" He abruptly turned and tried to shove his hand into my chest, only for my form to crumble and disappear in a kaleidoscope of light.

"First rule of magical combat." I called from outside the circle. "Never take your attention off your opponent. I get the idea you're overly used to being able to completely overpower anyone you come up against."

Azazel strolled up to the edge of the devils trap, acting as if he wasn't bound to the area here and had no concerns in the world. "That may be true, but you've reminded me of more in two battles than any fight I've faced in... three millenia, give or take a few centuries." He shrugged. "Still, this blood is going to soak into the ground in a couple of hours, and now that I have our scent..." He grinned broadly. _"Hell_ this has been fun!_"_

I shook my head. "Y'know, we're really not all that opposed to each other. Just give me the kids. There's plenty of other ways to skin a cat and it's a real crime to waist potential like that."

The Demon leaned on the wall of energy that sprang up from the edge of the Devils trap. "I'm curious, Potter. Why _aren't _you trying to stop me? I looked you up the moment I learned who it was that had been messing in my business. You're one of the hero types, a prophesied savior for your kind. Or at least those in England. It just seem... out of character."

I chuckled softly. "The seven year sabbatical didn't give you a hint?" At the demon's raised brow I shook my head. "Things were going down hill in a bad way when I was born and the prophesy didn't actually even refer to me until nearly a year and a half later. Tom was winning and nothing the order was doing was going to stop him. Dumbledore wouldn't allow his people to kill, some tripe about forgiveness, as if the crimes Tom's minions tended to commit were worthy of such. After my potions teacher betrayed my family in a fit of spite against my father and demanded my mother as payment, that's when my fate became sealed. The muggles have a saying, the road to hell is paved with good intentions; Bernard Clairvaux, circa 1150. Good intentions was pretty much all Dumbledore had. When he found me that night, he condemned me to eleven years as a slave and sullied my mothers sacrifice by binding me to a home where he knew I wouldn't be like, would even be feared and probably mistreated. After that, seven years of the wizarding world being schizophrenic was about all I could take. I did the hero thing and vanquished Tom because I knew that If I didn't, he'd certainly do so to me."

I turned around an laughed. "As it turned our, we were both each others lifelines. When Tom resurrected himself he used my blood as the basis for his new body. Between his body and my scar, we coulda both been immortal and unkillable! After that, all I wanted to do was get out. The only thing tying me there is my godson and Hermione, both of whom are well taken care of. Our of your reach too, so don't be getting any bright ideas."

The devil smirked at me from behind his barrier. "Yeah, that girl of yours was the first one I went after. Always nice to have insurance when dealing with mortal worms. Teleported away the moment I tried to grab her. Pesky things you Pagans. Hard to catch, hard to track. As for your sabbatical, you killed several dark lords in the last seven years and forced half a dozen of my kind to find new host bodies."

I rolled my eyes. "They had the same problem as you," I scoffed "strike first, ask questions only after their butt's been kicked."

I watched as Azazel nodded slowly. "Territorial are we who seek power" he agreed.

"That being said, I'm not particularly keen to let you go." I said, simply. "You've attacked me twice and pretty much refuse to negotiate. Reason i'm asking for the kids? They remind me of myself. You're the big bad, you're following a prophesy about the return of your god and you're visiting these kids shortly after they're born. You kill their mothers after giving them your mark and they grow up in hell only to be brought into a world much bigger and scarier than they thought it was with strange powers and the weight of the world on their shoulders."

"Sentiment" yellow eyes scoffed. "I'm curious though, Most worms like you, I'm able to manipulate their bodies with a glance, you should have been dead a thousand times already, your soul firmly ensconced in my toy chest. Why is that?"

I smirked. "I don't know how it works with your muggle thralls who you grant wishes, but for us wizards our magic is our identity. To transfigure the body you have to overpower the targets magic and so far your attempts haven't more than tickled. I'd stick with the loud spells if I were you."

"Alright." Azazels voice said from behind me as a bolt of lightning struck me in the center of the back. I groaned heavily and looked around, trying to figure out when my prisoner had escaped. As Azazel walked up to me, his feet crunching in the dirt I saw a petite blond woman at one edge of the circle, grinning, her hands covered with dirt. "You wizards..." Azazel said as he kicked me. "You talk too much."

As he made to kick me again I rolled over and stabbed the humming silvery blade I'd taken from the angel into his leg. It lit up gold and red as if lightning was crackling under the skin and he howled, long and loud, falling to the ground. Staggering up to my knees I wrenched the dagger out and made to stab him in a much better place when I was bowled over by a flying tackle from the blond girl.

"You will_ not _hurt my father!" she snarled, punching me, each jab breaking a rib. "That's _**my **_job!" I teleported, appearing just above her, the knife still in my hand and pointed down. Her whole body flashed with lightning and her bone structure showed through briefly before the pair of us collapsed.

"Well..." Azazel groaned, standing and staggering a little before taking to the air just a few inches above the ground "aren't you..." black energy collected around his fists charging for another attack "full of _surprises_."

I teleported again, but Azazel, true to his word, was a fast learner. Instead of a series of direct bolts, the lances of dark smokey light shot out in every direction spearing me and, from the sounds of the roars, a few Sasquatch who hadn't made it far enough away from the battle after they'd dug my devils trap for me. The spells he'd used was a cold so deep it burned. It wasn't quite on the level of the cruciatus, but being speared by a couple of those bolts? Merlins ball, the _pain!_

As Azazel floated over to me, gloating, I looked at the two different sets of blood on my hands and something I'd learned from an angry ghost while raiding his ruined temple in Mexico came back to me. Resurrection came in any number of forms, but the most common one was life for a life. Or in the case of the Aztecs, blood for blood. The rituals to do this even were quite simple. Get the blood of the dead and the sacrifice together on the same blade and then make a simple invocation to Teteoinan Coatlicue, the mother of gods, patron of priests and mistress of life and death. The invocation was simple in english, but rolling off the tongue sounded rather vulgar somehow. It translated to, Mother goddess, the vessel before me is unworthy. Grant their life to the bereaved.

As the last sylables of the invocation rolled off my lips the spectral image of a beautiful native american girl with brightly feathered wings, no shirt or bra and a skirt of live serpents clasped by a skull appeared before me grinning. Azazels heart burst from his chest and floated to the womans hand. Once there she pushed up a stone headdress of feathers and a stylized snakes head and began eating. Azazel, his vessel dead despite the demons control over it, looked stunned for a moment before his head flew back and black smoke issued out of the holes in his head. As the blond woman jerked back to life she looked around wildly, hope in her eyes, only to scream as Azazel plunged into her, taking possession.

The dark goddess of the Aztec's sneered however, and the blood of Azazel's last host swirled up to form a set of Aztec runes around the girl he'd taken possession of before slamming into her skin, and glowing brightly before settling down as a series of tattoos that covered most of the blonds body. Then the goddess turned to me. "I thank you, priest. It has been quite some time since a supplicant called on me, and to offer such a powerful sacrifice as well..." she grinned, the blood of the heart still staining her lips and teeth ""It was _delicious_!" She kissed me on the cheek before fading away. "Don't forget to call."

I slumped back into the dirt and groaned. Looking over at the blond that had called Azazel father and was now possessed by him I smiled wearily, satisfied at least that s/he wouldn't be getting back up any time soon. I whimpered as I pulled out a selection of curatives from an expanded pocket on the inside of my jacket. Sometimes it seemed as if my life never really changed. I gulped down the foul tasting concoctions and tried not to gag. Lightning damage was always a bitch to get over.

As the fatigue and pains of the battle began to melt away I got up and stumbled my way over to the fallen blond. I was going to have to do something about this. Allowing that angel to free Azazel last time was serious lapse and one that had come closer to killing me than anything since Voldemort that night in the forest. Fighting normal wizards was easy, teleport, vanish disarm and shame. So few of them ever learned how to do non ritual wandless magic so taking away their focus, be it a wand, staff, dagger or enchanted object, pretty much put them totally at their opponents mercy. Most of my true fighting since seventh year had been against magical creatures that would rather take a bite out of me than talk. And a few who wanted to do both, though those usually turned out to be more... enjoyable rather than bloody. Sometimes. This guy however, Morgana's bane... his wandless magic put everything I'd picked up over seven years of being exposed to every other form of magic and endless lessons by famous ghosts to shame! Absolute shame!

I shook my head and began levitating the woman. Once we were back in my car I laid her down on the floor and set up another demons trap, this time built into the floor and ceiling, once with Iron, the other with Silver and layered atop them two more, a blood based repetition on the Iron trap and a salt film on the silver one in the ceiling. Blood, silver, iron and salt, four of the seven most powerful binding elements in magic and four separate Seals of Solomon. Shaking my head I began layering hex wards around the outside of the seals, just for good measure. Bludgeoning, bone breaking, skin flaying, a rather nasty Chinese soul curse and a voodoo spell from a priest of Baron Samedi for flavor. I contemplated adding a few jinxes to it to add insult to injury, but decided against it. Finally I conjured a Patronus and set it to circling the cage just for good measure. The Holy Protector probably wouldn't do a whole lot to stop angels, but it should be able to ruin any demon or dark creatures day and given the winged assholes pause for thought.

"There is no such thing as overkill, only is it dead and pass the pepper-up potion." I muttered darkly. Pity my car isn't able to handle siege wards or the Fidelious, both of those require a stable location and access to local ley lines, the second of which is hard to get when you're flying through the air unless you're right in the center of one. With that, I moved to a panel, pulled out my brilliantly comfortable foam bed and went to sleep.

~! #$%^&*()_+

The next morning was odd. Instead of a stalking, glaring screaming Azazel, the blond woman he had possessed sat in the circle, chin on one knee, arms wrapped around the upright leg and crying softly. She looked like shit and it was so utterly out of character for Azazel I lowered the silencing charm to talk. Her eyes were still the same glowing yellow as Azazels, but the expression and cold humor i'd come to assiciate witht hem in the short time I'd known the monster were completely absent.

"Azazel?" I asked, and the girl flinched.

"He's here," she croaked out, her voice still scratchy from what had apparently been hours of crying "Who are yo... oh. He's very mad at you, Harry Potter." she was silent for a while as I crouched there stunned. "Good. She said eventually."

"So, ah, if you don't mind, who are you? You're not the screaming girl from last night, and you don't seem to be Azazel, because he's not that good an actor, so..."

"Meg." she rasped, smiling slighly, more tears forming at the sides of her eyes. "I'm Megara Masters. I'd shake your hand, but..."

I nodded. "Demon trap."

Her slight smile turned to a grimace. "I woke up a few hours ago." She explained softly. "I was possessed last year, just a couple months ago really. My parents think I ran away from college and my twin's been going crazy. The woman who was possesing me, her name was Anita. She was a witch" she paused shortly at my scowl before continuing "back in the fifteen hundreds. Sold herself to Azazel for the power to get revenge on her husband, a local lord who'd been cheating on her with half the town. She was later burnt at the stake and spent a century under the knife of Hell's master torturer before Azazel freed her and made her his apprentice."

"First thing's first." I replied, conjuring a glass of water and summoning a bagel from the fridge across the car "the person who possesed you? She was not a witch. Witches and Wizards don't need angels or demons to give us power, we're born with it." I floated the water and bagel over to her and she greedily wolfed them down. When she was done she looked back at me, uncertainty in her eyes and her voice still scratchy from the tears, but no longer a rasp.

"T-then... why were witches burnt at the stake? How did Anita get her powers to begin with?"

I shrugged. "Normal people can gain power from dealing with spirits, that much is true." I said nodding. "some theories go that's how we became wizards in the first place, but the history of magic is nearly fifteen thousand years old, probably older, whilst Enochian history," Confusion showed in her eyes so I clarified "Christian, Islamic and Jewish history, are only seven thousand years old. What ever happened with the angels occurred before they and Elohim, their god creature, came to earth. Pretty near every religion you'll find claims to have invented the world and everything else in it, but in the end, each of them found this place and the older the religion and set of gods you talk to, the more you can find when the others showed up."

"Now, what about Azazel?" I asked, sitting down outside the wards with my own food and drink. "You said you could hear him, but that he wasn't in control?"

She nodded. "He tries, but whenever I feel like I'm loosing control, this red snake blots out my vision in a flash. I feel tired and he's in pain somewhere in the back of my head. I can hear him too, like the voice in your head when you're staring off into space and thinking about things, but it's cold and oily so its easy to tell the difference."

I nodded. It made sense, but I wasn't really willing to trust her just yet.

"Well, if you can hear him, but aren't then you know I'm on vacation. You also know I can't afford to let you out of that cage, so aside from that, if there's anything I can do to make you more comfortable, just let me know."

She nodded, looking depressed. "When the first demon, Anita, took me, she cut my hair, dyed it and made me dress like a slut. Some better cloths would be a good start."

I grinned slightly. "Well, that we can do something about." Taking out my wand I summoned a swirl of dirt from around the car and transfigured it into a brush. With a few words it was enchanted and floating over to her. "Useful little trick I picked up on my way through France a couple of years ago." I explained. "Run it through your hair and think of the color you want. Anything under the bristles will change, all the way down to your roots, and the hair will start growing as you brush. No more than an inch or so a stroke, but then it was meant for hair styling, so it probably wouldn't have done well if it was more than that."

She took the implement and stared at it in wonder. "You can really do all of this with magic? The spells Anita knew... well, there were a lot, but they always cost something, and were always broad strokes and actions." I nodded and we spent a few minutes talking cloths. It turned out she liked button down shirts, loose jeans and leather jackets. Her twin was the girly one and it was one of the things they often tried to do to differentiate each other to the public. Aside from that, it felt more comfortable to her than Anita's tight cloths and short skirts and plunging necklines. I nodded, thankful not to need to listen to some girly girl talking about specific fashions and cuts, something I probably would have reapplied the silencing charm for, and let her change as I went back to the bridge.

The massively extended inside of the sports car was, as I said, designed to look like the bridge of one of those muggle scifi spaceships. Among the other many enchantments available were inertial dampeners, which I usually turned off because I liked to feel the motion of whatever I was flying. As we traveled further north I set up a screen in front of Meg so she could watch as I toured the rest of Canada and Alaska. I'd lost much of my interest in traveling though. I was still eager to see Australia and Hawaii, but more interesting was Meg and her demon problem. It took a few weeks for her and I to determine Azazel was really locked up and well caged and we'd begun working on allowing her to get accustomed to working with the Demon's powers.

We'd tried doing the whole Taoist thing to allow her access to Azaels memories as well, but most of them were horrifying to Meg in the extreme and we ended up dropping that avenue of research. It would take her a lot of time and practice to be able to dig through the demons mind with any sort of direction and we were both rather nervous of what doing that might end up meaning. Who we are is made heavily by our memories and if Meg absorbed too many of Azazels... It didn't really bear contemplating. I eventually let her out of the Demon traps as well, though I set a modified one drawn from the Eldar Futhark to hover around her invisible just in case.

Meg's powers, as we determined, were not quite 25% of Azazels for the same the same amount of effort, the reason for which were the native tattoos that kept the demon bound. They fed off the demons own power as a means of keeping him in check which took about half of yellow eyes capacity whilst the rest was strained through another set of tattoos in a matter similar to the shonin jump manga Hisako had introduced me to. Naru something or other. Hisa-chan had been furious when she'd seen it on the shelves and take time to explain how insulting and ludicrous it was that any human could trap one of her people like that and siphon their power. Regardless, this was what was happening inside Meg, the half of the power that was being drained off of Azazel was being purified and fed into the host, her, allowing the quarter that was left to be used by her.

Of all the powers Azazel's imprisonment granted her, Meg's favorite was flight. Ah... a girl after my own heart. The pair of us ended up back in America at some point and started stories about superheroes being real when we ran afoul of some bank robbers escaping in their helicopter. The raid on the chopper actually caused an amusing bit of controversy on the news because aside from taking the thing down and tying up the robbers for the Swatt team on the adjacent building, we took half of the money with us.

We were setting up a trust account for the money in Saginaw Michigan when Meg got a headache. One of Azazels memories surfaced as we saw this kid walk by. He was eighteen, rail thin and rather dirty. He had this hunched, beaten look about him and Meg and the kid were staring at each other.

"Meg?" I asked. "What is it? You recognize him? Demon? Or someone Azazel screwed over?"

She shook her head. "No, this is one of the kids he fed his blo-ah! His blood too!" she staggered, holding her head in pain as the tattoos flashed brightly several times. "The kid's developed his powers, ah! A-azazel... he kil-killed the boys mother! Oh god! There's fire everywhere, he's got her pinned to the ceiling!" she whispered heaving. "He's cut open her belly and set the room on fire, and another baby fell out! Oh god, oh god, oh god..." I held her gently as he heaved, vomiting on the sidewalk outside the bank. Well, shit. Certainly a candidate for extraction. I checked my phone. February 6th 2006. Hmm... snatch the kid and explain things later? Or do the Xavier thing... Oop, no, not gonna get the chance here he comes.

"Are, are you alright?" the kid asks. Now that he's closer I can see the dark shadow over one eye that indicates a bruise. He's been in some sort of fight recently. Potentially when his power's awakened.

I tilted my head tot he side slightly. "Alright is a point of contention right now. What's your name, kid?"

Said 'kid' scowled at the address. "Max" he said quietly.

I tried to put on my best friendly smile without looking forced or patronizing. "Well, Max. My friend and I are... I guess you might call us superheroes." I replied, showing him an handful of flame. He jerked back and then stared at it like a thirsty man in a desert. "Among other powers, my friend here, Meg, can sense other supers. It doesn't happen often, but given her particularly strong reaction to your powers, I'd say you have quiet a bit to grow into. Mind telling me what you've done so far?"

He nodded eagerly and levitated a couple of rocks. "I thought I was alone..." he said breathlessly.

I shrugged. "Naw, there's a whole big bad world out there. This is just your first step. Wanna come along for the ride? Hate to sound all Disney's Aladdin here, but me and Meg, we can show you a whole new world." I snapped my fingers and the car dropped it's muggle aversion charm, allowing him to see it as if if faded into reality. The thing chirped and opened the doors too, which I hadn't told it to do, but then it was about time all the magic permeating the damn thing started to form a personality. By this time Meg had recovered too and was trying to smile through the headache Azazel's little tantrum had given her.

Max looked somewhat hesitant though. "I have something I need to do first" he said. "And I'm twenty three, so if I come, I don't want you calling me kid."

Shrugging I took a quick peek in the boys mind and swore. Max planned to kill his dad, uncle and stepmother. It hadn't happened yet, but the first attack was going to happen tonight when his father got home. Carbon dioxide poisoning, apparent suicide. I'd call it a murder, except that the associative memories involving the man were pretty much entirely of beatings. Thousands of them, going back 22 years. Many of them including Max's uncle and all after the age of six with his stepmother looking on passively as if she couldn't see what was happening. Hell, it almost made me happy for the Dursleys screaming, ritual starvation and general malign neglect.

What a chilling though.

"You know..." I drawled, off hand. "If you kill them, they won't suffer for it. Not nearly as much as if you had a real revenge." The boy reeled and Meg looked up in shock. Seeing that I had both of their attention I continued. "Abusive relatives." I said softly, "I know the feeling. Know what worked for me? Living well. Come on in, I wanna show you something."

I climbed into the expanded interior of my car and waited for the pair of them to follow. Meg did pretty quickly, but it took Max a little while. "It, it's bigger..."

"On the inside than out? I know, great isn't it?"

"A-are you The Doctor?" I looked at him strangely. "Doctor Who?" he asked again. "You know, Galifray? TARDIS? Time travel?"

I shook my head bemused. "Time travel is a highly controlled branch of magic." I replied.

"You didn't say you were unable." Max countered looking excited.

"Best I can do is a couple of weeks and I have to sit on a ley nexus to power it." I replied. "Very illegal. As to the other things you mentioned... I'm gonna give a big huh?"

Max shook his head. "British TV show called Doctor Who. It spoke of an alien called a Time Lord from the planet Galifray. He was usually a britt and he liked to run around time with an entourage of normal humans while he solved problems."

I nodded slowly. "I... think Hermione might have mentioned it once. It sounds _vaguely_ familiar. Now, about you killing your family, and I use that term loosely."

Max looked away. "When I first got my powers, about six months ago, I thought I had been given a gift. The headaches were awful, but the promise of what I could do held me through. Then, four days ago, after coming back from work, my dad got drunk again. He beat the living hell out of me and all of my power, all of my training... it meant nothing. I was just that scared little kid again, wanting desperately for the beatings to end, one way or another. It was then that I realized I had to kill them. That it would never be over until either they were gone or I was."

"And you couldn't just run away," I added nodding "because it's not about getting away anymore, it's about not being scared."

"What do you know?" Max asked, looking up, his expression a pale mess of frustration, fear and hopeful.

"Because I've been there before." I replied. "My relatives never beat me; well my cousin did, but my uncle would scream a lot and throw me headfirst into a cupboard which he would lock for a week at a time. Maybe he was drunk, maybe he'd had a bad day at work, maybe I'd used my powers in public, or maybe I'd just done better than his useless whale of a son. It never mattered."

Max nodded, understanding. "What did they blame you for? For my dad it was all of that, but trade doing better at anything for the death of my mom. He used to get drunk and ramble on about it. How he came into my nursery and saw her pinned to the ceiling, her stomach slashed open and fire pouring off of her."

Meg whimpered and Max gave her an odd look.

"You're not the only one that particular scene has happened to." I said darkly. "Don't worry too much though," I offered trying to calm Max's sudden horrified disbelief "the man who did it is currently locked up in a deep dark hole even he'll never figure out how to get out of. I saw to that personally."

We talked for several more hours and eventually the three of us got onto the subject of what could be done with Telekinesis and more creative ways to punish Max's parents rather than killing them. We'd settled on playing poltergeist and getting the three of them committed to mental institutions when Sam and Dean showed up in town. Sam had been having recurring headaches and visions of the various things we'd been planning to do to the Millers along with my own battles with Yellow Eyes. They caught up with us, all three of them, as we were heading back to the millers house.

With a sniper rifle.

Thankfully John Winchester either isn't a very good shot or was aiming for my heart and managed to hit me in-between the shoulders on my dragon leather jacket. The impact of the bullet against my spine caused my shoulders and back to pop as I was personally thrown face first into the Millers rose bushes. The report of the rifle however allowed Meg and Max to put up telekinetic shields to war off five further shots. I've got a nasty pair of bruises and a face full of scratches which I'm already healing with my wand and my two charges are only slightly shaken. Max in particular is holding up well. Given what he said earlier about not being afraid I think this little battle might actually end up being fortuitous.

Another pair of bullets thunder in to stop inches from mine and Meg's foreheads. Alright, so the guy's not that back a shot.

"I get the feeling you're used to this." Meg asked me weakly.

I shake my head. "Not as such, no, though with all of the trouble I've caused in the last decade I have found myself chased by armed peacekeepers on both sides of the magical divide on one occasion or another. Dragon leather is a life saver. Truly."

"Heh." Max managed. "S-so long as you don't do this regularly I guess..."

I look at him and grin, as two more bullets are caught, one coming for the boys heart and another for mine. "Regular? Not really. I don't even go looking for trouble, it just seems to find me." I shrugged. "The curse of being interesting I suppose, normal just doesn't do you anymore."

By this point the bullets stopped coming and the sound of far off police sirens were beginning to wail. I watched as in the distance, in the general direction of the shots, finally seeing our attackers as they drove off in a ford 4 by 4 followed by a Chevrolet Impala. I fired off a series of tracking charms and grinned as one finally caught, a small stream of information blossoming in my mind. The I couldn't tell from the distance but the two boys looked angry about something. I wonder whether it was our continued survival or their dad's shooting at us without any sort of confrontation. Dean seemed like the type who liked to face off against his opponents nose to nose and fisticuffs. Sam... I'm not sure, aside from that he seemed protective of his brother back in the tent.

I turned back to the pair. "Still wanna go deal with your family? We may not end up having the time needed for a proper revenge."

Max's features took on a less certain cast, but he nodded. "If it comes to that we can fall back on the original plan." He said, his voice thick. I sighed. This kid was going to be a lot of work, I was sure of it.

~! #$%^&*()_+

The 'plan' ended up going off without a hitch, though that probably had a lot to do with the muggle aversion ward I put on the front door. The three of us walked around the house under notice-me-not charms, Max and Meg showing off to each other as they moved things around the room, subtly at first to make his dad and stepmother thing they were crazy. Things ramped up when I conjured a brief illusion of Jim's dead wife in a white dress to haunt him. Mr. Miller it seemed was a very superstitious man and believed that he was being haunted by his wife quite easily.

When Max's uncle Roger came rushing into the house on his brothers frantic call, I pulled up the illusion again and nodded to Max, allowing him to say whatever he wanted to the exceedingly frightened trio whilst I kept watch for the Department of Magic pigeons. Magicals in America didn't use Owls much because they were so obvious and easy to spot. Pigeons though were absolutely ubiquitous and responded well to the charms used to upgrade Owls for mail service. They weren't quite as fast as owls, but they were much less suspiciously out of place and the mail was always delivered to the right place.

In the end, the kid doesn't get to kill his family, they do it themselves out of guilt and the belief that Sally was going to stick around and continue to punish them for as long as they punished Max for an event that hadn't even been his fault.

It was probably better that they did it rather than the kid. He had been able to get everything off his chest, face his family without being scared and just let everything bleed. And in the end, his father and step mother did themselves in out of guilt, proving to him that he wasn't the bad one. Jim Miller had done it with a gun he kept in the car, Alice with some pills she was already using to deal with some sort of stress. Roger Miller, the uncle didn't commit suicide, he just ran. We followed him and watched as he drank himself into a coma and fell asleep in a ditch where he was robbed by some random homeless bum whilst laying in his own vomit. His keys, his wallet, his phone. I might have helped a bit, but Roger Miller, child abuser, would not be going home any time soon. Not exactly How I'd hoped everything would go, only one of them was ever going to really suffer for it before they died, but considering they were christian and what supposedly happened in their hell... well.

~! #$%^&*()_+

That night I visited the Winchester trio at their hotel.

Alone.

Max was sleeping off the stress of the day in a new room I'd had the car grow to accommodate him and Meg was calling her sister who we planned to visit soon.

I apparated into the right seat of John Winchester's truck, which was sadly empty of the man, and looked around. There was a demon trap in the ceiling of the cab above me and a number of enchanted items on the dashboard. I picked one up and examined it. It was a small idol, made of wood and covered in stained runes. Blood magic. Casting a few spells I determined that it was supposed to light up when in the vicinity of Orge's. Useful no doubt. Pity such magic is deemed dark in most of the world. I picked up another. This one was a small pouch with small cylindrical objects inside and what smelled like thyme and cannabis. A hoodoo pouch of some sort. Shrugging I opened it up and found that the small cylinders were bones. Toe and finger if I didn't miss my guess, from a young teen.

Rolling one of the bones between my fingers I focused on my connection to the misbegotten Hallows and pulled. It wasn't hard, traumatized children were always ready to lash out. The victim of this hoodoo pouch had belonged to a young boy, a twin whose brother was sick with a wasting disease. The parents for some reason hadn't killed the other brother but used the child who was part of this pouch as a source of materials to keep the other one alive. It had started out as simple blood and hair, but as the parents got further and further into the sacrificial magics of the islands it moved on to strips of skin, bits of organs and finally bones. The boy's spirit had been bound to the bag with instructions to heal and regenerate anyone who wore it. John had killed the parents who made it, but kept the pouch, either because he was an asshole or because he simply didn't understand what he had I wasn't sure. Since the kid didn't know either I let it go.

A quick question about whether or not the kid wanted to move on saw me burning the bag and calling the reapers. At first, the one who showed up was mad that I'd had the audacity to do so, using the power of the stone and my familiarity with two of their number to dare summon them. Then he saw the kid and we got to explaining things. He still wasn't happy, but he took the kid, promising me he'd be going to one of the better afterlives for his life of self-sacrifice and giving me a more polite way to get in contact with the death-gods.

The three Winchesters were in room 111 when I knocked on the door calling out "Pizza for Winchester!" Dean was sitting on one of the double beds, a gun kit spread out with the barrel of a sawed off dismantled in his hands and 3 of 4 other guns spread out on cloths around him. John Winchester was sitting in an overstuffed chair in the corner and it was Sam who had come to the door to open if for me.

"Wow, that was fas... SHIT!"

As soon as the door was open and he saw me, I hit him with a simple bodybind jinx and made Dean magnetic with another. All of the guns and their parts flew towards him and got stuck on his skin where he struggled to pull them off. John, who had lost his own guns and a knife to his son, pulled out another Hoodoo bag and began chanting at me. I rolled my eyes and hit him with a levitation and disarming charm.

"So!" I said cheerily, clapping my hands together once. "I thought we could talk..." I said, stepping over Sam. "You're going to tell me why I shouldn't kill the three of you." I nodded to Dean and added. "_Again _in your case."

Dean swore and John Winchester made threats, but it was Sam's response that caught my attention. "Because you're one of the good guys" he said from where he lay on the floor, stiff as a board. The statement caught all three of us by surprise. The boy wasn't done though, now that he had everyone quieted and listening he spoke again. "You killed Dean without hesitation the first time we met, and for that I hate you, but you only did so after he shot you. You gave us chances to walk away. Then I saw what you did with those people in the tent and talked to the pastor afterwords. He explained what his wife was doing. You don't take lives in order to heal like he was doing with the reaper, you just did it. I also saw your battle with the yellow eyed demon, the one dad says killed mom and Jess..."

"And now he's tagging along with it!" John interrupted, snarling and turning to me. "You should have killed the son of a bitch, not let it possess a girl or keep it around!"

I hit the man with a minor coughing jinx and turned back to Sam, canceling the body bind and helping him up. "You know, you're a bright boy Sam. Must have gotten that from your mother, because it certainly didn't come from the _guy i'm holding to the ceiling..._" I say pointedly looking over my shoulder at the boy's father. Turning back to Sam I nod towards the bed second bed where Dean was still struggling with the metal clinging to his body and each other. "Take a seat."

Speaking of the devil... "You going to let me out of this?" Dean snapped as Sam sat down. "You're obviously not going to kill us or you'd have done it already!"

I offer the older brother a raised brow. "Are you going to shoot me again? Because I'll quite happily kill you for trying. Especially now I know Elohim's feather dusters will just haul your ass back." I pause at his scowl, putting a thoughtful finger to my lips as I've seen Hermione do on occasion. "Although..." I grin "that might not actually be that bad a strategy! I mean, I've already got the steward of hell on a leash, why not add an angel? What do you think Dean? Wanna see how long it takes them to bring your ass back this time?"

Dean stops struggling and just glares at me. Shrugging I cancel the jinx. When he doesn't make any moves to try to reassemble his guns or gab a piece to attack me with I smile and turn back to the still coughing John Winchester.

"Ah, sorry..." I cancel that jinx too. "You were saying chuckles?"

"Why didn't the hoodoo bag stop you?"

I stared at him. "Really?" I asked after a few seconds. "You're going to lead with that?"

"I took that bag off one of the strongest hoodoo men in the northern hemisphere. The guy had a reputation for surviving deals with demons and I watched him take down a pack of hell hounds. He swore the thing would protect me from witches and it's worked pretty damn well so far."

I rolled my eyes. No harm in answering him really, the witches muggle hunters deal with are the Enochian wiccans, not my type. "Because my powers don't come from a demon, you idiot. A hoodoo bag to stop wicca from calling on their demon patrons for power isn't going to stop a wizard who's had his powers since birth. Now how about a reason I shouldn't kill you in front of your boys for shooting at me and my friends earlier?"

"Because if my son is right about you, then you care about people." The old man said. "That means you want me alive, because I'm they guy who hunts the things that go bump in the night. Every monster I kill saves hundreds of human lives. Innocent lives more often than not."

I shrugged noncommittally. It wasn't a bad argument from a certain perspective. It still assumed a higher importance on his own life than mine though which, while reasonable from a personal perspective, didn't exactly do wonders to convince me to let him go. "And that Justifies you shooting at me, Meg and especially Max... how exactly?" I ask, manipulating the levitation charm with my wand so that he was face to face with me, but upside down with his hands locked to his sides.

"You're traveling with the demon who killed my wife and one of the kids he corrupted fir one. Either of those makes you guilty. You know what sort of monster the yellow eyes is, Sam said you fought him! Why keep him alive? Why travel with him? Why sacrifice some innocent girl to be his host?" He huffed, sentences becoming shorter as he began to have trouble with the blood rushing to his head. "For another... a person... with powers like yours,... obtained at or before birth? My research has told me about things like you... Cambion."

"_Aestus Fulgar._" I snapped, lightning springing out from my wand and hitting him like a taser for few seconds before stopping. "My mum was about as far from a demon as you can get you stupid little bugger" I said coldly.

"If you're not... a cambion... then what... are you?" he asked, breathing heavily, his face purple. Damn. I was going to need to turn him upright soon or he'd likely pass out.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are drempt of in your philosophy."

"Shakespeare..." he huffed "i get it already... I don't know what you are... I shouldn't have attacked... without doing research..."

I turned to the Winchester brothers. "Is he usually this dense?" Not waiting for their replies, but noting Dean's outraged expression and Sam's slight smile, I turned back to the now nearly purple John Winchester. "You shouldn't have attacked at all. Your only information came from your son having a vision, a skill which is notoriously unreliable, and indicated, if anything, that I was a hunter like you who'd just trapped a high level demon. Did it not perhaps occur to you that, oh I don't know, killing Meg might let it escape? Or that killing me was obviously wrong in the first place?"

When John didn't answer I took a close look at the man and swore, turning him right side up. "He's passed out, damn-it. What am I gona do now? Not exactly the type to shoot someone in their sleep..."

"You could let us go." Dean offered gruffly. I gave him an incredulous look and he held up his hands, standing slowly. "No, no, hear me out. Attacking first was wrong, we get that. Research the weirdness, then make the call. We tried to kill you twice, you killed me once, how bout we just call it even? We'll keep an eye on pops and not attack you again less you do somethin stupid. Like eating people."

I glare at the pair of them for nearly a minute before nodding. Turning back tot heir father I perform a few medical charms, explaining what I'm doing to the agitated brothers, and after making sure their father was alright I added a number of hexes on the side. John Winchester would not be unable to talk about me or risk belching uncontrollably every time he opened his mouth, looking at me for more than a few seconds would cause him to fart loud and rank and actually trying to shoot me could cause him to void his bowels. One of Ginny's favorite curses after the bat bogey, though the triggers are often different on account of her not having to get used to being shot at. I talked to one of her victims once and the effect is apparently rather painful. Not dangerously so, but akin to full abdominal cramps.

With that done, I left. "Take care you two." I snarked. "Places to go, people to mess with, you know drill..."

~! #$%^&*()_+

Authors note.

Well, that's all for this chapter folks. Review if you have any question, review if you enjoyed it, or hell if you're really annoying just review to flame me for how much I'm abusing your favorite fandom. Either of them. Current outline has only 3 more chapters till this is finished, so don't expect an epic.

OH! and before I forget, I'll happily take reviews or PM's with Beta worthy edits, because I know my searching has missed..._something..._ It always does.


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